


Weave the Crimson Web: Prologue

by Hazzardous_Lemurs



Series: Weave the Crimson Web [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Earth, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Narcissistic mother, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sisters, Trilogy, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-03 12:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13341114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazzardous_Lemurs/pseuds/Hazzardous_Lemurs
Summary: I would like to say this story has a happy ending. But I don’t know. I can see what could happen. The threads of many paths chosen or not. Though, what will happen is not for me to see.Fate is as fickle as a cat.Speaking of which, I am Thyra. It is a pleasure to meet you.Don’t worry, by the time the threads of this story come together you will know all. And you will need to. I have seen the threads, the paths, our fate. For what is coming will destroy us all.Your world and mine.





	1. Chapter 1

Mother always sat in the large burgundy armchair.

The house was cold and drafty. Even with the large fireplace that roared with warmth in winter, the house was never warm. It may have been that Mother always sat in the large burgundy armchair next to the fireplace.

Wrapped around the fireplace, and chimney were twin staircases that led up to the slew of overdressed rooms in the above floors. The chimney should have provided warmth all the way up the mansion. But it was as cold in the attic, as it was in the grand foyer where Mother sat, in the burgundy chair.

Long, red velvet drapes barred the sun from heating up the room in summer, and the loss of warmth in winter. Along the floor shades of warm brown was jig sawed together in the intricate parquetry that covered the floor of the grand foyer. The richness of the velvet and wood should have lent a warmth to the room. But then, Mother did remain seated in the burgundy armchair near the fire.

Nothing went in our out of her home without her knowing. She sat there, day and night. Only moving to attend to her basic needs. If something was out of place within her domain she could rely on her loyal staff.  Mother had a lot of staff to look after her estate.

Have you ever seen the old Wizard of Oz? I always thought of Mother’s staff as her flying monkeys. She would sit on her burgundy seat, and issue directives to her monkeys, and they would fly around the house making sure her word was followed to the letter. I would sit on my seat, near the large mirror, and watch.

It was always like this. Though Father seemed to temper Mother’s proclivities.

I remember, when we were a family, Mother and Father sitting in the twin burgundy chairs, near the fire. A large Christmas tree had been erected in the centre of the atrium. Boxes were scattered around the large room, up and down the stair cases. Mother and Father were sharing a drink, as the maids and I were opening the brown boxes, revealing carefully packed glass decorations for the tree. In a box, on the third step of the right stair case I found the most precious fairy ornament I had ever seen. She was 15 centimetres tall, with long red hair. Wrapped around her body was a khaki coloured tunic, and her legs were covered with black leather boots. Fitting snugly across her full hips was black leather belt, and two small swords were held in the loops. And across her shoulders was a bolero made of tiny black feathers.

Tenderly, I held the fairy in my hands as I walked towards the tree. Mother saw me and called me over. “What do you have there?” she questioned, one eyebrow raised. With wide eyes, and a huge smile I answered “It’s a fairy Mother.” She sniffed, and admonished me, “That’s not a fairy, girl. She is ugly and has no wings.”

“Mother,” came the warning from my Father. Mother immediately retreated, she could never stand against my Father. With a terse nod, she indicated towards the tree. I turned towards the tree, with my cherished find. But my foot got caught in something. The fairy slipped out of my hands, as I landed heavily on the wooden floor. With a high-pitched crash, she shattered into a million pieces.

Blinking back tears looked back at my parents. My mother shifted her foot back, and gave me a pointed look. “Always so clumsy,” she muttered with a smirk. Embarrassed, I ran to the long velvet curtains that ran across the tall wide windows. Wrapping myself in their warmth, I cried. It was not long before a gentle deep voice coaxed me out of my cocoon. Father was kneeling in front of me. Soft gentle grey eyes, expressing his concern for me. Father opened his arms up and I fell into his lap, curling up. Wrapping his arms around me I felt safe. “It is ok, da’len. I am sure you will see her again,” he said gently into my hair. Puzzled, I blinked up at him through my tears. He smiled, and whispered “You will see her again.”

But this story is not about Mother. It is not a story about me, either.

This story is about my sisters.


	2. Chapter 2

The tree was positioned in the exact centre of the round medallion motif of the parquetry floors of the grand foyer. The top of the tree reached to the highest point of the room’s domed ceiling. Sniggering, Tayce wondered what would happen if lightning struck the dome and ran down the tree. At the slight noise, Mother raised her head and held the girl with an appraising glare. “Tayce, don’t,” hissed her sister, knowing that the girl was about to start something. Looking over to Mirrin, she gave a quick smirk.  Stepping out from the brush like branches, the impetuous girl threw her hair back over her shoulder. Tayce gave her mother a sweet smile and moved around the base of the large Christmas tree towards the brown cardboard boxes.

Tayce never understood why it needed to be there. Only Mother stayed in the Grand Foyer. The tree would have been better in the lounge rooms, where her and her sisters would frequent. But then Mother would need to move, and that could not happen under any circumstances, she thought rolling her eyes. At least the tree provided the girls with some protection from their mother’s all-seeing eye whilst it was erect.

Picking up another ornament, this one a goofy looking duck, Tayce reached up to tuck it onto the spindly twigs. “Not there, girl,” came the curt reprimand. The strawberry blonde girl poked her tongue out at the rough trunk of the tree. Stepping back from the tree, she turned and gave her mother another sweet smile. “Where would you like it placed, Mother,” she asked her voice soft, and laced with saccharine. Mother’s eyes narrowed at her daughter’s acquiescent behaviour. With a slight smile, she leant back in her armchair and pointed, “There.”

Sighing, Tayce followed the direction of her mother’s pointed finger. Landing on a high branch, her eyes rolled. Of course, it would be there, she snarked internally. Now she would need to find the step ladder. “As you wish, Mother,” she smiled. Her mother would not stand for a sullen face on her girls. Girls needed to be soft, smiling and quiet. Everything Tayce naturally, was not. Taking great care to place her feet quietly on the polished stairs, she bided her time until she was out of sight and then raced up to the top of the stairs, stopping only at the hidden door to the attic. “What are you doing here?” questioned one of her mother’s numerous employees. Tayce spun around on her heels, and came face to face with Mrs Whitby.

Mrs Whitby was the quintessential old English housekeeper. She was tall, and angular. Her greying hair pulled back into a harsh bun, that perched atop her head. The woman always wore the correct attire for her position (if she worked in the 1800’s Tayce snorted under her breath), and was immaculate in her presentation. Mrs Whitby did not care much for Tayce, in fact, she did not care much for each of the three girls. But Tayce, in particular, was the focus of the housekeepers’ ire. Maybe it was because the girl was the eldest of the three. Maybe it was because she argued back. Maybe it was because the sky was blue and the flowers pink. Tayce really did not care one whit for the woman and her indignation.

Staring at the woman, almost eye to eye, she gave her sweetest smile of the evening. “I am fetching the foot stool for Mother.” Mrs Whitby tilted her head slightly forward to look down her long nose at the wily girl. “We are putting up the decorations, and Mother wanted some on the higher branches”. Appraising the girl for lying, Mrs Whitby harrumphed and muttered that they would be needing the big ladder and the ornament pole to finish the tree. “I will fetch them and bring them to your mother,” she said with a slight frown. “Return to your Mother.”

When Tayce was sure the woman could not see her, she allowed her face to form a perfect smirk. It was not every day she could beat Mrs Whitby at a game of propriety.

At the top of the stairs she carefully returned to the carefully constructed role her mother required. Daintily stepping down the stairs, Tayce stopped when she saw the rustle of the red curtains. She hated those things. They were heavy and did not allow a speck of light through. Whenever they were moved they released a plume of dust into the air that made her wheeze. She knew why they were moving. Elde was no where to be seen. She had not been seen since they started trimming the tree.

Mother had also seen the rustle of the heavy material, and was watching it like a hawk. A sly smirk slid across her thin lips. Tilting her head to one side, Mother waited for the velvet to move again. A gentle waver of the curtain, again caused her predatory smile to widen. Tayce knew what would happen if Elde was found. Making a snap decision, the eldest girl started stomping down the last of the stairs, attempting to make each stomp louder than the last.

Jumping off the last step, Tayce gave her Mother a big grin. Making sure it reached from ear to ear. “Mrs Whitby said she would bring the things shortly, Mother,” she said a little too loud. She would pay for her display later, she knew. But now, Elde was forgotten.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Mother took a sharp breath in and landed her reptilian eyes on Tayce. “Thank you, Anastacia,” she said through gritted teeth, and gestured for the girl to sit by her feet as they waited for Mrs Whitby. Tayce knew the punishment would be harsh. Mother had used her full name. There was nothing she could do now but wait, and make sure her sisters were out of the proverbial firing line.

From where she sat, the girl could see herself in the large mirror that was attached to the wall near the fire place. It was as tall as the highest point of the stair case, and was rimmed in gold. The glass was mottled and hazy, it had never shown an image since she could remember. It was unlike her mother to own something that was broken. She wondered if it had been Father’s.

Clipped foot steps indicated that Mrs Whitby had returned with the ladder and pole. “Return to your task,” Mother said, and Tayce quickly gathered herself up to continue to place ornaments on the tree.


	3. Chapter 3

“One day, there was a princess. She had pure white hair, and lived in a tall tower,” Elde whispered to the dusty crimson drapes. Pushing her thick rimmed glasses back up her nose, she continued her story. “In the tower was a long mirror. Everyday the princess would go to look at herself in the mirror, and every time there would be nothing there.” Dust motes drifted in the space between the mirror and the drapes. Lit up by the fading sun, they danced in the eddies created by the girl’s gentle breath.

Loud stomping alerted Elde to the fact that Tayce was antagonising Mother again. Quietly slipping out from behind the curtains, the gangly girl made her way over to the stacked boxes. Daring to turn around, she gave a dirty look at the older girl, who smirked and winked back at her. Spinning back to the box, her face heated up in anger at her sister. Stupid girl, she hissed to herself, she always gets to sit near Mother.

Lost to her own irritation, she did not hear the foot steps of Mrs Whitby until it was too late. The clatter of the pole and the thud of the ladder, as they hit the wooden floor, elicited an anxious squeak from the girl. Scooting around the stacked boxes away from the commotion, Elde peeked out only to be met with a satisfied, but nasty, grin from the gaunt housekeeper. Ducking back down, her heart raced and her hands shook.

“Return to your task,” Mother’s voice rang out around the cold room. A patter of foot steps told Elde that Tayce was back helping arrange the Christmas ornaments on the overly large tree. Picking up two large baubles in her shaking hands, Elde carefully walked over to the tree. Placing them in a scatter over the large branches, the girl made the trip several times until the box was empty. Stepping back to look at her handiwork, her gaze met her mothers’. Mother’s blank eyes continued their path around the room, not once showing an ounce of recognition for her daughter.

Letting out the breath that she didn’t know she was holding, Elde returned her eyes to the tree. The baubles needed spacing out a bit more. Before, she could place the baubles in better positions, Mirrin ducked in and did it. “Is that better, Mother?” she inquired desperately to the woman in the burgundy armchair. A curt nod of Mother’s head made the youngest girl beam with praise. The middle child stood there, mouth agape at her sister. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away. Crying would only end in punishment.

Returning to the boxes, Elde found a small, beat up box. Gingerly, she lifted it out of its confines. Quickly scanning the room to see if Mother was watching, she wasn’t, she opened the flaps. Inside was the remains of an unidentified ornament. Carefully picking up a piece she held it towards the light of the fire. Brown and black glinted back at the blonde girl. Curious, she thought, not many ornaments have brown or black. Laying the piece back in the bottom of the box, she allowed her fingers to slide over the remaining pieces. “Ow!” she cried, pulling her hand out of the box and shielding it against her chest. Drops of blood had formed and sluiced over the wafer-thin pieces of the ornament, before Elde had even felt pain.

Panicked at her sudden outburst, she glanced over to her mother. If her mother had heard Elde, she gave no indication. Peering back in the box to see what had cut her. “What’s wrong?” hissed Tayce, eyes darting from the box to Elde’s finger. Wide eyed, Elde shook her head at her sister. She wouldn’t believe her. Tilting her head with a gently smile, Tayce carefully took her sister’s hand. “You cut yourself,” she whispered, “How did you do that?” Eyes devoid of colour flitted back to the box, and returned to the strawberry blonde girl. A quick glance in the box revealed the vanished contents to the eldest girl. “Elde,” she growled quietly, “How did you hurt yourself?”

Opening and closing her mouth several times, the girl could not answer. Nothing made sense. The ornament was in the box. It had cut her. And now it was gone.

“I don’t know,” she finally whispered to her sister.

Sighing, Tayce gave a smile only reserved for her sisters. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

When the sisters returned, their mother was in her usual spot. However, now the small cardboard box was sitting atop her knee. Elde glanced up at her older sister. Tayce held her head high and came to stand in front of her mother. “Is there something wrong with the box, Mother?” she inquired, a little too sweetly for Elde. Raising one eyebrow, their mother pinned the oldest girl with a piercing glare. “Where did you find this?” her voice slightly wavering from the controlled tone she normally kept. Elde again glanced up at Tayce. She was shaking from head to toe now; her heart was thudding in her chest. Elde did not know where to look, at the floor, at her mother, or at her sister.

Tayce squared her shoulders and turned her body to face their Mother. Elde shivered with anticipation. Tayce never backed down from a fight. It was a quality that Elde both loved and despised about her sister. “It was in one of the other boxes, Mother,” came the girl’s steady reply. Blinking up at her sister, Elde couldn’t decide whether to speak up, or let Tayce handle it. Instead she made a squeaking noise, and returned to staring at the floor.

“And where are its contents?” inquired Mother. “It’s contents?” queried Tayce. “Why Mother, the box was unusually empty.” Mother held Tayce with her glare for a second more, before finally acknowledging her middle child. “Where are its contents, Elde?”

Elde jumped, and let out another pitiful squeak. “I don’t know,” she whispered. She could never lie to Mother. “Look at me girl!” Mother admonished. Darting her eyes to her mother’s composed face, the young girl shook with fear. “Where is the fairy?” hissed Mother. Elde’s face scrunched in confusion. There was no fairy, just a jumbled mess of pieces. “There was no fairy in the box, Mother,” she whispered, her gaze returning to floor.

Snarling at the admission, Mother stood from her chair, and threw the tattered box into the roaring fire. Turning back to her girls, she bent down coming face to face with each girl. “That is right,” she hissed, her cold breath tickling their cheeks. “There is no, ‘fairy’. There never was a, ‘fairy’, and there never will be a, ‘fairy’.”

Returning to her controlled stature, she lowered herself gracefully back into her burgundy armchair. “Now children, return to your task.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done with the prologue. Then the real fun begins.

Mirrin sat on the steps of the left stair case, hidden behind the turned wood balustrade. Her dirty blond hair was perfectly coifed into a pretty braid, that ran down over the pretty pink cardigan she was wearing. She shook her head as she watched her sisters return to the tree. Mirrin would never understand why they insist defying their mother. Tayce in particular seemed to go out of her way to antagonise Mother. For what end though, she questioned. Tayce would only get in trouble later, when the guests had gone.

As if on cue, the door bell rang. Jumping up from her hiding spot, Mirrin ran to the huge double doors. The only time Mother allowed running in the home, was to greet guests in a timely manner. Jostling with her sisters for her position near the door, the little girl ran her clean hands over her new dress, making sure the creases were gone. When she was pleased with the result she stood straight and smiled.

The grand doors parted and a cheery “Hello! Hello!” from a familiar voice echoed through the entrance. Warmth entered the home, as their uncle greeted the girls. “Hello my children, how are you all,” he said excitedly, pausing at each one to kiss them on their cheeks. “Hello Uncle, we are well. Thank you. And yourself?” came the practiced reply. A slight grimace crossed their uncles face as each girl greeted him with the perfect response.

When their greetings were completed the girls led the man to the Grand Foyer. Nodding his greeting to the woman in the burgundy arm chair, their uncle took his place in it’s twin on the other side of the fire place. Mirrin took no notice when her sisters left to continue decorating the tree, she had her role, and she would complete it perfectly. “Uncle, Mother. Would you like me to pour you a drink?” the small girl inquired. A stilted nod from her mother indicated in the affirmative, her uncle however, “My goodness girl, how old are you?” he guffawed. “I am 8, uncle.” Blinking at the small girl, the man shook his head. “Too young to be serving me a drink da’len. Go, have fun with your sisters.” He swept his hand across the room, motioning for Mirrin to leave the adults. With a quick glance to her mother for permission, the child nodded and left to join her sisters.

“My goodness, Woman,” their uncle growled from behind his whiskey. “They are children, let them be children.” Mother raised an eyebrow at the man and pursed her lips. Uncle was one of the very few people that could fluster their mother, Mirrin noted. Uncle and Tayce.

“They are my children, and I will raise them as I see fit,” said Mother tersely. “They will not always be children,” warned their uncle. “One day they will leave you, then where will you be?” he inquired with a cheeky grin. “In an old, tumbling down house, with your aging staff, and your fraying burgundy armchair?” he motioned to her seat with his tumbler. The room got colder, as Mother regarded the man with an icy stare. “They are my children, and they will never leave me. I will make sure of it.” Mirrin found herself moving to stand next to her mother. She did not order her body to do so, but something in her mother’s voice commanded her obedience. Her sisters continued to trim the tree, eavesdropping on the tense conversation.

Mirrin watched as her uncle reached down and pick up a parcel he had brought. Keeping his eyes locked with Mother’s he called for the sisters to join him near the fire. The small girl looked to her mother for permission, and with a wave of her manicured hand, Mother acquiesced. Ducking underneath her sister’s arms, she found a spot near her uncle’s feet.

Warmth radiated from him, as he regarded each girl individually. “Have you girls heard of the fairy?” he inquired. Mirrin watched, as Elde’s light grey eyes lit up. “No!” came the hissed yell from Mother. “You will not speak of it.”

Anxiety began to rise in Mirrin. Mother was angry. Eyes shooting daggers into her uncle. Face twisting into a furious snarl. Voice harsh and sharp. Her long manicured fingers gripping the arms of her chair, digging into the fraying material.

Light blue eyes flitted from Uncle to Mother. Not knowing where to stay.

“They need to know.” Came the blunt retort from their uncle.

“No!”

Standing abruptly, the small girl started to go to her mother, but a large warm hand landed on her shoulder. “Stay still Mirrin,” came the gentle order. Finally landing on her uncle’s kind face, her light blue eyes focused on the small ratty cardboard box he held on his lap.

A gasp came out of the mouths of her sisters. Their eyes round as saucers as they whispered to each other. “Is that?...” whispered Elde, almost unheard. “Shall we find out what is in it?” inquired their uncle. Imploring each girl to say yes. Tayce and Elde both nodded in agreement. The young girl frowning at their immediate answer. “Mother, said no,” Mirrin said quietly. “Mirrin!” hissed Tayce.

“Child come here,” Mother’s voice was calm.

Mirrin looked up at her uncle, ice grey eyes imploring her to stay. “Child,” came the warning from Mother.

“Mirrin,” again implored her uncle. Quietly, calmly, kindly.

Slowly she sunk down to the ground, waiting for her uncle to continue with his story.

The little girl snuck a small glance towards her mother. Horror written across her snarled face. Mirrin quickly returned her attention to her uncle.

“Once upon a time,” he begun. “There was a young girl.”

Loud stomping from the servant’s quarters echoed around the room, disrupting their uncle’s story. “She was a pretty young thing, with milky white skin, dotted with freckles, and a mane of red curls.” The hidden doors were thrown back, and hit the walls. “Enough!” bellowed Mother’s groundsman stalking towards their uncle with a sledgehammer over his shoulder. “You will not speak of this again.”

Elde let out a squeak and hid behind their uncle’s chair. Tayce grabbed Mirrin’s arm and pulled her behind their uncle. “My dear man, what do you wish to accomplish with a sledge hammer in this fine home?” Tayce sniggered at their uncle’s snark.

The man stood before their uncle, in an attempt to menace him into submission. “You will not speak of them,” he yelled, “The lady of the house has spoken. They are her children, and they will not leave.”

“Oh? Is that so?” smiled their uncle. “And who will stop me taking them?”

A cackle echoed around the domed roof of the Grand Foyer. “They will,” sneered Mother. “They cannot live without me, and they will not leave me.” She laughed. “You will see.”

“Children,” Mother said sweetly. “Come here.” One by one, each of the girls left the relative safety of behind their uncle and came to stand next to their mother.

“See,” she sneered. “They will never leave me.”

Their uncle regarded each of them with sad eyes. “Very well.” He began to turn, “But remember, they will leave you.”

“Pish, they are mine, and mine alone.”

With one last smile for each of the girls, their uncle gathered up the tattered box and left the home.


	5. Chapter 5

Mother glared at Uncle’s retreating form. Crossing her hands in her lap, she sniffed, held her head high, and said firmly “We will never speak of this again.”

The sisters hazard an uncertain glance at each other, feeling the pain of their uncle’s immediate absence. A loud thud from the massive double doors herald their uncle’s departure. Each girl slumped slightly at the sound.

Silence reigned around the cavernous room. No one dared to move from their designated spot. Finally, Mother spoke, “Well done children. Mother is pleased to see you know your place.” Each girl reacted to the praise. Mirrin beamed with pride. Mother was pleased. Elde held as still as she could, holding her jittering hands. If she could just not be seen, it would be alright. Tayce held her face as expressionless as a mask. But inside, oh inside she was burning up. Fury raced up and down her limbs, making the tiny hairs on her skin to prick. 

“Leave us,” Mother had spoken. The girls curtseyed and gently walked up the stairs of the twin stair cases. When they were out of Mother’s sight each girl turned back slightly. Mirrin allowed her hand to caress the smooth balustrades of the stair case. Elde glanced back to the mirror, searching its mottled face for something. Tayce gave the long heavy drapes a dirty look. She hated those things.

“Now!”

The girls spun back to their intended course, increasing their pace, all the way to their quarters.

Closing the door behind them, Tayce leaned against the strong wooden panelling, sliding down to sit in front of the door way. “Wow” she whispered. “I have never seen Mother so flustered.”

Mirrin regarded her eldest sister with contempt, “If you would stop antagonising her, she would be nicer to you,” she said looking down at her nose. It was the only time she could actually look down at her sister. Being the youngest also meant being the shortest, though Tayce was unusually tall for a twelve year old.

Snorting, Tayce heaved herself up off the floor. “If you say so, Mirrin.” Toeing her shoes off, she kicked them into the wall. Smiling at her disobedience of the rules, she padded over to where Elde was trying to hide. “So, what do you think Elde? Do you think Uncle had it in the box?”

Elde considered her sister’s question for a moment. Carefully she lifted her head up to look at Tayce. “I don’t know. The box I found had pieces in it, and it definitely did not look like a ‘fairy’.”

“Well, whatever you two thinks, Mother said to never speak of it again,” hmphed Mirrin, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

Rolling their eyes at their youngest sister, the other girls said in unison “Yes, Mother.” Smirking at each other, they fell into a pile of giggles and tears at the events of the evening.

Outside of the cold mansion, their uncle stood on the foot path, watching the flicker of lights that told him his nieces were in their chambers. He smiled. The question had been firmly implanted in the girl’s mind. And he knew, with children like Tayce, Elde and Mirrin, once a question has been asked they will not let it rest until it is answered.

Though the answer would be a long time coming, he sighed to himself.

In the subsequent years the girls grew to fulfil the roles Mother allowed them to fill. Although, this was not without contention. Mother’s grip on the minds and hearts of the sisters was waning with time. As is natural for children to grow to adults and find their own way through life.

Their uncle never stepped foot in the cold mansion ever again. That’s not to say that he never saw the girls again, quite the opposite. He maintained a quiet vigil. Waiting for the day the sisters would be ready to hear the story of the fairy. The girls would see him waiting on the foot path. They would wave before being ushered into the black car by Mother’s driver. 

I would like to say this story has a happy ending. But I don’t know. I can see what could happen. The threads of many paths chosen or not. Though, what will happen is not for me to see. Fate is as fickle as a cat.

Speaking of which, I am Thyra. It is a pleasure to meet you.

Don’t worry, by the time the threads of this story come together you will know all. And you will need to. I have seen the threads, the paths, our fate. For what is coming will destroy us all.

Your world and mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the story really begins... *sits back down and flips through already written pages*


End file.
